NOVEL NEXT Chapter 33 - The Way of the Weak
Scene 033: The Way of the Weak
The Imperial Guard, also known as the Empress Mekhael’s Shield.
They were elite guardians chosen through rigorous evaluations of martial prowess, magical ability, moral character, and even physical appearance. Among them, the captain, closest to the Empress, bears an unparalleled responsibility and must meet incredibly demanding standards.
The current captain, Marco Feiligris, is a figure of renown, even by the lofty standards of history.
“So, why is someone like him here now?”
I couldn’t help but question the peculiar situation.
If I recall correctly, Marco’s official introduction in the original story was scheduled for much later. Unless his appearance here is due to an imperial order (something trivial, like a visit to a department store), it’s far too strange to ignore.
There could be only one conclusion.
“…The Empress is keeping tabs on me.”
Nothing else made sense. Marco moved solely under the Empress orders, and the reason were not difficult to deduce.
The influence of the Ruelberta family had grown to a point where it could no longer be dismissed. Meanwhile, the authority of the Imperial Family is diminishing day by day. It was natural to assume that the Empress would take measures to counterbalance the Ruelberta family’s rising power.
As the head of the Ruelberta family, I had become a target of imperial scrutiny, but not even in my worst nightmares did I expect such an open intervention—much less from Marco, the captain of the Imperial Guard, a man who rarely left the Empress’s side.
And so, two individuals who were never meant to meet now stood face-to-face.
BOOM!
Marco’s mace smashed through the ice with a thunderous crash.
Blanche had already put some distance between herself and her opponent. Her voice carried the weight of her fury.
“Why are you interfering with me?”
“My orders are to protect Count Tristan,” Marco replied, his tone unwavering.
“Don’t be ridiculous! I won’t hand over the Count—not to the Empress or anyone else!”
“Explain yourself.”
Blanche’s magical aura, swirling around her like a violent snowstorm, suddenly stilled.
“Because I have to kill the Count! That’s the one thing I will not concede!”
“That reason is unacceptable. It contradicts my orders.”
“If you can’t accept it, then I’ll have to kill you too.”
“Then I have no choice but to eliminate you, beast.”
“Go ahead and try it!”
The battle commenced.
Blanche, stepping through the air with supernatural agility, began to transform. Her hybrid features shifted, dissolving into the form of a pure beast—a majestic tiger cloaked in icy mist, its roar echoing like the bitter winds of winter.
“So, you reveal your true colors, beast,” Marco said, his expression hardened.
In response, he unleashed his full magical might. His black mace flared into a fiery red, the flames of the Feiligris family coursing through it.
The two clashed mid-air, the intensity of their strikes leaving no room for retreat. It was a relentless exchange of power.
At that moment, I realized something: this fight wouldn’t end until one of us was dead.
However, both of them are vital for when the players appear. For the sake of the future, I cannot allow either of them to die here.
“They must live…”
At that moment, Blanche’s freezing magic erupted, colliding with Marco’s blazing mace. The resulting explosion sent shockwaves through the battlefield.
Crash!
Both combatants were hurled to the ground, struggling to rise amid the chaos.
As expected, Marco stood first. Despite her immense power, Blanche’s current state could not match the might of the Empress guard.
Marco staggered to his feet, his breath heavy. Before him, Blanche, now fully reverted to her beast form, lay unconscious. The blue tiger, once a ferocious storm of ice, now gasped for air, her injuries leaving her incapacitated.
“…I was mistaken, beast,” Marco muttered, his tone tinged with reluctant respect.
The battle was decided, but not without cost.
Crack.
The head of Marco’s mace shattered, the once-pristine weapon now ruined. He gazed at the broken weapon, then at Blanche, a flicker of admiration in his eyes.
“You were strong. But not stronger than me,” he declared.
Marco gathered mana in his hand and summoned the destructive flames of the Feiligris family. The fire swirled menacingly, ready to consume its target.
“That’s enough, Sir Marco,” I intervened, suppressing the pulsating sensation of “Wrath” within me.
Marco turned, his sharp gaze locking onto mine, his disbelief evident.
“The Count cannot give me orders,” he said coldly.
“Wasn’t your mission to ensure my safety, Sir Marco?”
“That’s correct. But…” Marco’s eyes shifted toward Blanche.
“It’s better to neutralize potential threats.”
“Are you suggesting that this beast poses a threat to you?” I asked in a mocking tone.
My provocation was futile.
“Wait where you are, Count. I will finish this and then escort you.”
“…How amusing,” I replied, a faint laugh escaping my lips.
“Pride” churned furiously within.
Suppressing “Pride” with the remnants of my “Patience,” I struggled to control my emotions.
“What if I refuse?”
“Are you defying the Empress’s order? In that case, I’ll have no choice but to drag you by force..”
Marco tilted his head, his expression unyielding. The remnants of their earlier clash clung to his armor, shards of ice breaking free and scattering to the ground with soft, crystalline cracks. The air grew heavier as tension coiled between us.
He Pronounced Judgment Upon Me.
“The Count is weak. Therefore, you cannot stop me.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Marco Feiligris stood as the most formidable captain in the Imperial Guard’s history, a man whose strength was both legend and reality. Even if I were at my peak, I wouldn’t be able to challenge him.
The truth was bitter.
I was weak and Powerless.
But even such a weak person has their own way.
I drew a deep breath, steadying myself.
“Stay there, Count,” Marco said, his voice an iron command. “Soon, I’ll secure your custody and—”
“…There’s always been something I’ve wondered,” I interrupted, my tone deceptively casual.
“Pride” churned furiously within.
Feigning indifference, I locked eyes with him, my gaze sharp and mocking.
“Whose orders do you follow? Which side are you truly on?”
For the first time, his stoic mask cracked. A flicker of shock passed over his face, subtle but unmistakable.
“…How does the Count know about that?”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t know such things?” I replied, my tone laced with condescension.
I stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. Leaning in, I whispered in his ear, each word deliberate and cutting.
“There is no place within the Imperial family that my influence does not reach.”
Marco froze. Though his expression remained composed, I felt it—the slight tremble in his shoulder.
But it wasn’t fear.
It was anger.
Seeing his reaction, I allowed myself a small, triumphant smirk.
“I imagine she must be waiting for you somewhere,” I said, my tone dripping with insinuation. “Lonely, perhaps?”
“Count…” Marco’s voice was low, edged with warning.
“Oh, forgive me,” I continued, feigning remorse. “I misspoke. After all, it isn’t lonely if there are two, is it?”
His composure wavered.
“…Are you threatening me right now?” Marco’s tone turned cold, his eyes darkening with fury.
Even someone as unyielding as Marco Feiligris could feel human emotions.
The air around him seemed to ripple with power, his anger manifesting in the form of a blazing magical aura. It was a silent promise: if I dared to harm what he held dear, he would make me regret it.
But I wasn’t afraid. My pride would not permit it.
“A threat?” I echoed, feigning innocence. “How could I threaten you? You’re the Imperial Guard Captain, the Empress’s shield. I am weaker than you. That’s why…”
The corners of my mouth curled into a sly grin.
“I will do whatever it takes.”
For a brief moment, the tension in the room shifted. The fiery magic Marco had summoned flickered, then dissipated entirely.
And in that fleeting instant, I saw it—a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of fear crossing his face.
It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual composure.
“…I will withdraw,” Marco said at last, his voice calm but strained.
His duty to the Empress outweighed all else, and he had realized something crucial: there was nothing for him to gain here. To remain any longer would only risk his position.
Marco turned to leave, but I wasn’t done.
“Wait,” I called after him, my voice cutting through the silence.
He stopped, glancing back.
“Is that all you have to say to me, Sir Marco?”
If I could have seen my own expression, I was sure my smile would have been infuriatingly smug.
It was a silent challenge—a wordless demand to acknowledge who truly held the upper hand.
Marco hesitated, then bowed stiffly. “…My apologies. I will be more cautious in the future.”
Without another word, he turned and walked away, his movements measured and deliberate.
But I knew the truth.
Beneath his emotionless facade, Marco Feiligris was furious.
…All entirely due to Tristan’s shitty personality.